by Emery Belle
Trying to calm my ragged breathing—and hoping that today was poor Patrick’s day off—I waited until the troll had stormed out of sight before glancing both ways and, when the coast was clear, slipping into the VIP room and shutting the door behind me. The sound of the disco music was instantly muted, replaced by the low murmur of laughter and conversation, and the bright, airy casino had been swapped out for dim mood lighting and swanky black and red décor. Clouds of perfumed smoke hung thickly in the room, and my head immediately began to swim.
Clutching onto a chair for support, I surveyed the room, looking for anyone who might be Finn. The VIP clientele was all men, though several very beautiful, very scantily-clad fairies were delivering drinks and what looked like rainbow-colored cigars, which must have been the source of the sweet-smelling smoke that was already clinging to my skin like sweat.
Eventually, my gaze narrowed in on three leprechauns sitting around a poker table and sizing each other up as a heavy-lidded woman with long silver hair that shimmered when she moved dealt the cards. A fairy was sitting on the smallest leprechaun’s lap, running her fingers through his tousled auburn hair, and when she leaned over and began whispering playfully into his ear, he pushed her aside.
“Not now, sweetheart,” I heard him say. “Maybe later, once I’ve cleaned these boys out.”
“You wish,” another of the leprechauns grunted, then laid his cards on the table with a flourish. “Read ’em and weep, Finn.”
My ears perked up, and I watched Finn carefully for a few more hands of poker; he seemed to have an endless supply of gold coins tucked away in his pockets, and he never backed down when one of the other men raised the stakes. I hovered near the door, hoping the others in the room would continue ignoring my existence, until Finn finally stood up from the table, stretched, and patted the fairy’s bottom. “That’s it for me this morning, lads. I promised the missus a new unicorn-fur coat for our next anniversary, and she’ll rip off my ear if she finds out there’s not enough gold left for the matching pair of slippers.”
His fellow leprechauns gave him a cheery goodbye wave, and the fairy sashayed away, looking sulky, as Finn grabbed the suitcoat he’d draped over the back of his chair and slipped into it. As he was about to leave, I sidled up to him and purred, “I love the way you play. Buy you a drink?”
He surveyed me with a frown, taking in my rumpled tuxedo and wilting beard, then shook his head. “Sorry, not my type. Have you tried Lawrence, though? Now there’s a dwarf who can appreciate a good beard and a nice fat pot o’ gold belly.” He rapped his knuckles on my stomach, then winked at a passing waitress, who giggled and shot me a look of superiority.
I laughed, taking the insult in stride. “Well, then, let me pick your brain about your secrets to winning big at poker. I’m supposed to play at a charity event next week for…” I hesitated. “Blind dragons.”
“Blind dragons?” He idly stroked the auburn stubble on his cheeks, then shrugged. “Why not? Finn O’Connor doesn’t do charity events, but he also doesn’t turn down a few pints of the lucky stuff.” Throwing his coat over his shoulder, he led me to the bar, then placed an order for three pints of lucky ale without asking what I might like to drink.
“I’d like to make a toast,” I said after Finn received the first of his ales and the bartender slid a glass of plain water my way. “To good friends, good fortune, and dragons who can see again.” He gave me an odd look, but allowed me to clink my glass against his. In the time it took me to unwrap a straw and stick it into my water, he’d already gulped down the entire pint, wiped his mouth and belched richly, then reached for the second tankard.
“Now I’d like to propose a toast,” he announced, swaying slightly on his chair and giving me a lopsided grin as he raised his glass. “To the lady dwarfs. If the tales are true, then it’s no wonder your men prefer their women with beards.” He gave me a roguish wink, then knocked back his second ale as I tried not to imagine what he meant by that.
“I have one more toast,” I said, bowing my head and assuming a serious tone. “For a very old and very dear friend who recently passed away.” I raised my glass one last time. “May the dragons carry him away to the land beyond the sunset.”
“That’s beautiful.” Finn sloshed a considerable amount of ale out of his third tankard as he joined me in the toast. “Wouldn’t it be nice…” He paused to let out another loud belch and began trying to push the spilled ale back into his tankard, without much success. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we all had a friend like you?” He drank long and deeply, then asked, “And who, may I ask, is this dear friend of yours?”
I looked him hard in the eyes. “A centaur named Orion.”
Finn spat out a mouthful of ale. “Orion, did you say?” I noticed the subtle hardening of his expression and the way his fingers had stiffened around the handle of his tankard. “The seer?”
“Yes,” I said mildly, taking another sip of my water. “He was a very good friend of mine, and he recently passed away. Did you know him?” I set the glass back down on the counter, then took a napkin from a nearby stack and began mopping up the spilled ale, all the while sneaking glances at the leprechaun, whose ruddy cheeks were growing redder by the second. I signaled for a fourth ale, knowing it was the best way to keep Finn talking, and passed it to him the moment it arrived.
He took a long swallow, then slammed the tankard onto the counter. A vampire sitting nearby hissed and bared his fangs at the leprechaun, but Finn paid him no attention. “I’ll say I knew him.” His voice was now slightly louder, and slightly more slurred, and he was beginning to draw the gazes of the others in the VIP room, several of whom tsked loudly. “Orion is a fraud. Do you know what he did to me?”
He leaned toward me, his blue eyes shadowed with anger, and jabbed his finger into my chest. “Your dear friend lost me thousands of gold coins, that’s what he did!” By now he was shouting, his voice echoing around the quiet room.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, injecting plenty of sympathy into my tone as I reached over and took his hand, appeasing him, wanting him to think that I was on his side. “What happened?”
Finn signaled for a fifth ale, and when the bartender refused, he slid over the counter, grabbed a tankard, and poured himself an extra-generous portion. “Try and stop me again, and you’ll be sorry,” he sneered to the bartender as he climbed back into his chair. I saw her pull out her wand and set it on the counter in front of her, though her face remained impassive. I suspected she’d had to deal with plenty of drunken jerks in her day and could hold her own against any of the men in this room.
Noticing a bowl of oyster crackers halfway down the bar, I grabbed it and slid it toward Finn; I needed him drunk enough that he would loosen his lips, not pass out on the floor. “You were saying?” I continued in honeyed tones, resisting the urge to pull away from the leprechaun, who looked so angry that even the tips of his slightly pointed ears had turned bright red. Leaning in conspiratorially, I lowered my voice and added, “If it makes you feel better, you aren’t the only one who’s had run-ins with Orion.”
“I’m not surprised.” Finn tilted to the left, and I hurriedly reached out my hand to steady him. When he righted himself again, his eyes were gleaming. “I heard he was murdered,” he said gleefully. “The arrogant horse got what was coming to him.” He crushed a few of the oyster crackers between his palms and let the crumbs drop to the counter, then snapped his fingers a few times—it took him a few tries to actually get his thumb and middle finger to meet—until the bartender came over and wiped up the mess.
I shot her an I’m sorry look, but she merely rolled her eyes and moved down the bar to a group of very well-dressed zombies waving silver coins in the air to get her attention. “So you were saying that Orion had lost you thousands of gold coins,” I prompted, trying to get Finn’s attention—he was currently attempting to wolf-whistle at a passing fairy, though he was mostly just spitting on the floor.
“What?”
He swung his head back to me, a dribble of spit on his lips, an unfocused look in his eyes. “Did you say something about gold coins?” He rubbed his hands together and looked around excitedly.
I bit back a sigh of annoyance. “Yes. The ones you lost?”
“Oh, yes. The arrogant horse. Anyway.” Finn leaned one elbow on the counter, soaking his suitcoat in spilled ale. “I had a business idea, you see. A surefire way to make so much gold we could paint the entire island with it.”
His blue eyes flashed golden, so quickly I almost missed it, before returning to their normal color. He glanced around, then beckoned for me to come closer. When I did, he whispered, his breath hot in my ear, “Have you ever heard of Myrna’s gold?” I shook my head. “Not many people have,” he said wisely. “It’s a very rare treasure that can only be found deep in the mines of a remote island, practically impossible to get to. But if you do… well, you’d be set for life.”
“How so?” I asked, cocking my head with interest. Frankly, this was starting to sound pretty good… far better than putting in another housekeeping shift at the hospital, even if the source of the information was somewhat questionable. I eyed Finn, who was trying to dry the sleeve of his suitcoat with a napkin but kept missing and hitting his nose instead.
Eventually, remembering our conversation, he looked up at me and said, “Because Myrna’s gold is magical—guaranteed to double in weight once you stew it for a fortnight in a mixture of Irish whiskey and yarrow root.”
My dreams of never having to work again instantly evaporated. “Double in weight?” I asked, not bothering to hide my doubt.
He shook his finger at me as if I were a naughty child. “That’s why you’ll never be rich. And neither will the rest of the skeptics out there who say it isn’t real.” He shrugged, still looking rather lopsided. “But their loss is my gain. And so, like I said, I was planning a big trip to the island to mine for the gold, but, of course, I needed investors to help pay for the journey.”
“You needed investors to help pay for you to go to some island in the middle of nowhere and collect gold for yourself?” I raised my eyebrows.
“They were going to get a ten-percent cut of the profits!” he snarled, slamming his fist against the counter and knocking over the rest of the oyster crackers. “What do I look like, an animal?” He began undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, then slid it off his arms and slung it over the back of the chair before grabbing another napkin and fanning himself vigorously. “I don’t know what they put in that ale—it always makes me sweat like a pig in heat.”
“So what does this have to do with Orion?” I asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. I knew I was pushing my luck with the fake valet outfit, which had already garnered several suspicious looks from the waitresses fluttering past; it was only a matter of time before one of the security trolls arrived and hauled me out by my beard.
“One of the investors started getting cold feet,” Finn said, scratching at his curly auburn chest hair, which was now on full display. “He decided he wanted an unbiased opinion”—the leprechaun let out a derisive snort as he made air quotes—“and so he paid a visit to the horse. And wouldn’t you know it, the horse told him he didn’t think it was a good idea. That I was going to swindle him and keep the gold for myself.”
Finn’s eyes burned with anger. “And so the investor told the rest of my backers what the horse had said, and every last one of them pulled out. Have you ever heard anything so outrageous?”
Sounded to me like Orion had done his job perfectly, but I wasn’t about to tell that to an angry, drunken, half-naked leprechaun—Finn was currently in the process of peeling off his socks and wiggling his gnarled toes on the barstool. “Another one,” he called, snapping his fingers, and this time the bartender didn’t even try to argue. She just slid another tankard his way, and he turned and clinked glasses with a sulky-looking goblin sitting beside us, listening unabashedly to our conversation.
Still, something else was bothering me about everything Finn had told me, something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on…
“Wait a second.” I frowned at Finn. “This island, where did you say it was?”
“So you aren’t as stupid as you look!” Finn elbowed me jovially. “You want a piece of the pie all for yourself, huh?” He leaned in closer, and his putrid alcohol breath washed over me. “I’m still looking for investors, if you’re interested. The Isle of Caoimhe is nigh on impossible to get to, only on the back of a—”
“Manticore!” I nearly shouted, my voice triumphant, recalling the conversation I’d had with Dale the nurse about the poison used to kill Orion. According to him, the cullenberry flower only grew on the very same remote Irish island where Finn was planning to mine for gold. There was no way that was a coincidence. But, then again, Finn didn’t seem to have actually made the trip to the island, thanks to Orion thwarting his plans. Had he figured out a way to import the flower?
Finn gave me an odd look, and I realized I was grinning. “I just really like manticores,” I said quickly, by way of explanation, albeit not a very believable one.
The leprechaun shrugged and slid off the barstool. “To each his own.” Then he began gathering the bits of clothing scattered across the floor at his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised the old bag of bones I’d be home for lunch. She gets a little, uh, disagreeable if I’m late.” He took a few tentative steps forward, swaying but not stumbling. “Seems I’ve still got room for a few more, eh?” And then, with a roguish wink, he made his way out of the VIP room, leaving his clothes behind.
As I was preparing to follow him, the goblin who’d been listening in on our conversation stopped me with a hand on my arm. When I turned toward him, he looked around to make sure no one was listening before saying, in a low voice, “I couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying to the leprechaun. About Orion?”
Well, he could, but I wasn’t about to point that out, especially given the size of his talons.
I lowered my voice to match his. “Do you know something about Finn that might be helpful to the investigation?”
The goblin shook his head, his long ears flapping. “Not about Finn, no, but I recently did some… business dealings… with a centaur named Barak, and while we were meeting at his house to discuss the details, Orion came storming in, demanding to talk to Barak. While I was leaving, I heard them shouting at each other… pretty heated stuff.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about what, though… not my business. And I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, but Orion once helped my little sister gain the courage to get out of a bad relationship, and I’ll always respect him for that. I want his killer caught, and Barak’s one of the biggest hotheads I’ve ever met. If you want to talk to him, he lives right next door to Orion’s family.”
The goblin nodded toward the tab the bartender slid my way, then dug a handful of silver coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the counter. “This one’s on me. Good luck with the investigation.”
I stammered my thanks to his back as he sped out of the room, and then, after apologizing once more to the bartender for Finn’s boorish behavior, I left the VIP room, blinking as I entered the bright hubbub of the casino’s main floor. On my way out, I caught sight of the beautiful woman with the black hair who’d directed me to Finn, standing behind an empty blackjack table and shuffling her cards, looking bored.
“You find what you need, valet?” she called when she saw me, snapping a piece of gum between her perfectly pouty lips.
“I did,” I said, approaching her. “Thanks so much for the…”
But the rest of the words were stuck in my throat. I stared at her chest, dumbfounded.
“What?” She frowned and tugged at the front of her tuxedo. “Did that vampire get blood on me? I told him to keep his fangs to himself, but he was dripping all over the place.”
“N-no,” I said, shaking my head to collect myself and slapping a smile on my fa
ce. “Sorry, I just spaced out there for a second. Thanks for all your help.”
“No problem.” She was still looking at me oddly as she finished brushing off her tuxedo jacket before adjusting her nametag, which I hadn’t noticed the first time we’d spoken. Good thing, too, or I never would have been able to get through my interview with Finn, not when I had dead fish, and headless frogs, and bats, and gorgeous ex-girlfriends on the brain.
Apparently I’d never needed Sebastian to tell me where I could find Remy. I’d done that all on my own.
Chapter 11
“What are you doing here?” Garnet said, frowning at me above a stack of paperwork she was filing—by hand, since we still hadn’t learned how to make objects fly. I’d just arrived at Sparrow Manor, where Garnet had recently taken a job as Lady Amabelle’s secretary, and though I’d been hoping to avoid her, Garnet’s desk was planted right beside the front door.
“I’m going to pay a visit to Cordelia Wright,” I said, drawing up my shoulders. “I want to ask her to take another look at my wand.”
Garnet groaned. “You’re not still on about that, Wren, are you? You heard what Lady Winthrop said—”
“This has nothing to do with not practicing,” I snarled, and the wand in my pocket vibrated in response. I clutched it, heart pounding, afraid of what it might do, but it merely sent a few feeble sparks at me before quieting down once more. Perhaps the wand sensed when it was in trouble and knew when to shut up… a lesson I hadn’t quite learned myself yet. And I wasn’t really working on it either.
“Fine.” Garnet shrugged. “If you’re willing to deal with the consequences of going behind Lady Winthrop’s back, then that’s on you.” She picked up the phone. “Cordelia works on the same floor as Lady Amabelle, so I know her office number. Give me a second and I’ll let her know that you’re here.”